


Waiting for the End

by Trivelino



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Dean, Explicit Sexual Content, Gay Sex, Heavy Angst, M/M, Rimming, Top Castiel, Vessel Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-14
Updated: 2013-11-14
Packaged: 2018-01-01 11:17:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1044202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trivelino/pseuds/Trivelino
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At first all Dean can see is glaring bright white light when he tries to open his eyes.</p><p>He thinks he may have gone to heaven -like those feathery bastards promised him he would when he said yes- and is surprised to think that maybe the Angels had kept their word for once. It gives him hope that maybe the other things they had promised were also true; that Sammy and Bobby and Cas and… Fuck, maybe whole damn world might still be okay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting for the End

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote about a year ago on LJ and just getting around to posting it here  
> because I win so good at procrastination its painful. 
> 
> Set in SSN 5 - my take on 'what if Dean said yes to Michael?'  
> ~ ~ ~ ~

 

At first all Dean can see is glaring bright white light when he tries to open his eyes.

He thinks he may have gone to heaven -like those feathery bastards promised him he would when he said yes- and is surprised to think that maybe the Angels had kept their word for once. It gives him hope that maybe the other things they had promised were also true; that Sammy and Bobby and Cas and… Fuck, maybe whole damn world might still be okay.

He soon realizes that his eyes, his mind, simply haven’t adjusted to the daylight after being under loan to Michael for such a lengthy period of time. He’s not in heaven, he’s conscious, alive, and on Earth.

He should have known better than to trust those assholes…

He attempts to gain his bearings, slowly lifting himself into a sitting position with wobbly arms. His head feels as though he’s recovering from a bad hangover the day after a shitty hunt… only ten times worse.

It takes a long while; he can’t be sure how long, before Dean is able to concentrate on his surroundings.

He thinks it’s flattering that Michael was kind enough to leave him at Bobby’s house before vacating the premises… but he also thinks the dick-angel could have picked a more appealing place. Maybe something along the lines of a bedroom or living room… Hell, even the kitchen would have been a more appropriate place to garbage your human vessel than on the fucking roof. Especially since Dean, being as sore and disorientated as he is, isn’t actually sure he can make it off of here in one piece.

He tries to roll sideways and then onto his hands and knees, positioning himself to slowly rise to his feet.

Dean needs to be up; moving, walking, running to meet the people who he desperately needs to find inside of that house, safe and alive. He needs to hear, to feel, and see that there is nothing and no one standing in the way of him and those very few people he loves.

The hunters’ instinct within Dean recognizes that his return to consciousness may very well being with a fight... So be it. He can rest his body after his very small, complicated, and dysfunctional family is back in his sights.

He stands and observes his -now much less blurry- surroundings.

Oddly, everything seems exactly the same as the night he said yes; the impala is parked out left of an outbuilding, the door is slightly ajar, light is still on inside. The pile of old beat up cars is as junky as it’s always been, and the house looks no more dilapidated than usual.

“Okay…” Dean murmurs to himself.

“sumthin’s wrong here…”

But his mind can’t quite comprehend what that is.

He turns around to check out the wooded area behind the house, just to make sure that…

It’s gone?

In fact EVERYTHING that is not Bobby’s yard is gone; shrouded in a grey haze that looks thick, almost tangible, devouring everything outside of the immediate area.

Somehow Dean knows that nothing leaving the yard would ever make it through that grey, but he’s fairly certain nothing will be coming out of it to get him either.

Great.

He’s stranded on Bobby Island…

Dean barley has time to think “what the fuh—“before feeling something smash into the back of his head, swung hard and heavy by a strong –and fucking sneaky- shadow on the roof.

Dean’s vision whites out once again and he vomits on himself before passing out and falling face first, hard into the tiles.

____________________________________________________________________________________ 

 

"Dean… Dean!”

A frantic whisper right beside his ear brings the hunter back to consciousness; the taste of vomit fresh in his mouth and his head pounding double strength.

No amount of liquor could cure this damn headache.

“Dean!”

the voice growls louder, making Dean cringe as the sound penetrates his sensitive head.

Before he has time hit the loud thing in the face he recognizes its voice - rough, gravely, warm - and his green eyes snap open to meet those beautiful blue ones that he knows will be there to greet him.

The angel isn’t but five inches away, and Dean gulps back the stirring he feels at their proximity. He wants to yell at the guy about ‘personal space’, but he is too overwhelmed with the joy of seeing him -and that ridiculous holy tax accountant getup- to scold his angel at the moment.

A grin plasters itself wide on Dean’s face, and his pain subsides significantly with the change in his mood. “Cas” Dean breathes out; reaching up and holding the angel’s head between his hands, making sure he’s really there. He wipes his thumb endearingly across Castiel’s jaw and Castiel lids his eyes and smiles lazily in return, as if he himself had just risen from sleep.

_But Castiel doesn’t sleep…_

“You were dreaming Dean…” the angel whispers insistently “Michael brought you back, completely catatonic, but today you started dreaming… and now you’re here…” he quietly rambles out; still looking sleepy, disheveled, and very content.

His smile widens ever more slightly. Dean finds himself thinking that Cas looks stunning when he smiles, and his own smile grows in return.

_But Castiel doesn’t smile…_

This new easiness is nice. Dean has never been open about his feelings toward Cas, even though he’s always knows those feelings very much exist; overwhelming and strong and burning away at the bottom of his chest…

_But he can’t afford to acknowledge this..._

and hell, the last time he saw Cas, the angel was rippin’ him a new one over the mere thought of becoming Michael’s vessel. If Cas was going to be around to forgive him after the apocalypse, he never thought it’d be like this. This new warm and inviting Cas, it’s too good, too much.

Dean finally lets himself wonder how this could happen… Did his angel fall? Did the rest of world end? …and his heart begins to hammer as he attempts to sit up and ask- _Are you really here?_

Nothing. 

He asks nothing, because his face is now even more impossibly close to his Angel’s. And all he can register is that Castiel has been straddling him and is now sitting in his lap with legs wrapped around him like a horny chick.

Dean finds himself holding the angel firmly in place by his hips; unsure if he wants to pull the guy off or pull him in closer so he can rub his face into the angel’s chest.

_But Castiel is not this soft…_

Dean has a million questions he needs to ask; about the roof, about the shadow, and the grey, and the time, and date, but his head is spinning from a mixture of head trauma and desire… So he asks the only question that makes sense;

“Where’s Sam?”

“In law school.” The angel answers matter-o-fact, tilting his head, a small smile reappearing on his face.

He leans impossibly further into Dean’s personal space; sharing his breath, reaching around and drawing patterns into Dean’s back with his long, slender fingers, leaving Dean in no state of mind to ask further questions.

“He’s okay Dean.” Cas soothes.

_But Castiel is not this gentle…_

“Oh…” Dean manages to sigh out contently before the pleasure of Cas' fingers consumes his mind.

His eyes close and he gives an unconscious squeeze to Castiel’s hips before sliding his hands around his back and pulling the angel closer to his body. Swimming in the other worldly scent of Cas and the feeling of electricity in the air.

He thinks for a brief moment that this feeling must be a concussion. But then the tingle of rough lips lightly brushing against his own, warm and slightly wet, lets him knows this sensation is a purely emotional one.

He knows that he’s in love.

_But this isn’t real…_

And he knows it’s already too much to ask for Sammy to be happy and normal and for the war to be over. But Cas… for Cas to be his too…

_And the sky outside of the window is grey, just grey…_

Dean opens his bright green eyes to looks at Cas -into Cas- and they fall into one of those intense staring matches that has been a trademark of their friendship since what now seems like the beginning of time.

_And the taste of vomit is still in your mouth…_

And Fuck it if he’s not completely overwhelmed by the emotions seeping through that stare. Castiel’s adoration is pouring into him, the love they radiate becoming thick like fog between them.

This is all he’s dreamed of, for so long.

His mind falling blank to anything else but his desire for the angel perched on top of him; his angel … who wants him.

_Wake up…_

Dean surges forward to close the small gap between them; one hand moving from the angel’s back and clutching roughly at the back of his head, running fingers through his dark tousled hair, while the other holds Castiel tight at the waist. Their lips press together harshly and awkward; both the hunter and angel too overwhelmed with lust and the need to open wide and taste the other to focus on technique.

They’re both stark naked and Dean thinks Cas must have used his angel mojo. But that’s okay, just this once, because Cas is absolutely beautiful like this; all lean muscle, sharp lines, smooth skin, lust blown eyes, and kiss swollen lips… He can’t believe he waited this long to witness such perfection.

Dean is on his back again, and he doesn’t remember when or why that happened, but Cas is worshiping his body; kissing him from head to toe, licking into his belly button, following down that trail of hair, biting into his neck, and nipping at the hard, pink buds of his nipples seemingly all at once.

All Dean can do is mewl and whither under the attention Castiel lavishes on his body, untouched cock swollen, red, and leaking an absurd amount of pre-come already.

Before Dean can even begin to beg Castiel to touch him, the angel effortlessly roll’s him onto his stomach, propping up his hips so that his ass is in the air, still pointedly ignoring Deans throbbing erection as he continues his work on Dean’s back; licking caressing, and biting each bit of flesh his mouth can access. Dean growls in protest. He wants to fuck Cas, to be fucked by Cas… anything to be closer to his angel after so long apart.

“C’mon baby” he beings to whine… But cuts himself short as soon as he feels stubble against his cheeks, followed by the warm slick pressure that starts first at his crack and then travels lower, near his tightly puckered hole, as Castiel’s mouth finds Dean’s ass and..

“Holy fucking shit Cas!” Dean moans into the bed, arching his back to an almost impossible angle as vibrations of pleasure run through his spine.

Castiel swirls his tongue around Dean’s opening, slicking him open with spit before he prods deeper to lick the hunter inside out. Dean is already absolutely wrecked by the time Castiel crooks his first finger into him. He’s amazed he hasn’t come yet, amazed that he thinks he could without having his cock touched, and amazed Cas can do this to him…

When the fuck did his angel get so fucking filthy?

Dean is about to ask him when a second finger joins the first inside his hole, scissoring Dean open and allowing Castiel’s tongue even more intimate access to his insides. Incoherent profanities roll out of Dean’s mouth like poetry; occasionally punctuated with “Please Cas” “I need” and “Fuck me”.

He is shaking and sweaty with want now, afraid he may actually pass out from the pleasure. When Castiel finally gives in to Dean’s pleading and turns the hunter over onto his back, Dean can see that Cas is just as much of a mess as he is; his hair sticking up in every direction, some plastered to his face, he gleams all over with sweat, chest heaving, pupils blown, and his cock is heavy and leaking with protest.

He’s perfect, a perfect angel, and he needs this just as much as Dean. He needs Dean. Dean’s heart swells with the thought.

“I need to see you” Castiel croaks out breathlessly, almost reading Dean’s mind. It’s all he gets from his angel before he wrenches Dean’s knees over his shoulders and lines his dick up with Dean’s eager opening.

Dean thinks for a split second that having Cas’ thick cock inside of him should be more painful than it is; there should be lube, and more prep, not just saliva and a couple of fingers. But when Castiel maneuvers Dean’s hips up slightly, brushing against his prostate as he slides easily into Dean’s tight wet heat, all concerns dissipate and Dean floats on the high he gets as Castiel continues to rock slowly back and forth over the sensitive bundle of nerves inside of the hunter.

Dean is going mad, he knows he isn’t going to last too much longer, but this needs to be perfect. He forces himself to turn his head forward, reach out to cusp the side of Castiel’s jaw, and looks his angel in the eyes. The connection is so much stronger now than ever before. Everything Cas has to offer is in that stare; every unspoken word that desperately needed saying is being released. There is sorrow and regret and love and passion in Cas’ face; and Dean can only hope that Cas can see half of what the hunter needs to say as he stares back.

Without taking his eyes off of Dean, Castiel finally reaches down and grabs the hunters throbbing member; rubbing his thumb through the leaky mess at the tip and smearing it around the head and down his shaft. Dean howls in surprise, body humming with ecstasy, but he still refuses to close his eyes or look away.

Soon Castiel quickens the pace of his hips, along with the jerking of his hand, and Dean relishes in the new tempo as he slams back onto Castiel’s cock with any leverage he can manage. He gasps in sharp breaths and whimpering uncontrollably each time the angel hammers into his prostate; overwhelmed by emotion and sensation, he’s no longer able to form words. He’s so, so close to finished when Castiel suddenly lowers his head. With their foreheads touching, and his breath on the hunter’s lips, he whispers

“I love you, Dean.”

And that’s just too much.

Dean comes so hard his vision blacks, and he thinks he can hear himself scream. He clenches hard around his angel as the burning in the bottom of his stomach ruptures into nothing he has ever felt before.Maybe its grace spilling into him, maybe it’s just the immeasurable amount of love the two men share. Whatever it is, the euphoria feels like it will never end, and even as Dean comes down from his post-orgasm high he finds he’s still shaking.

He’s not sure he will ever stop.

Castiel sighs and gives into weak limbs. He sinks down on top of Dean, easing his way out of the hunter slowly. Dean can feel the warm seed inside of him beginning to seep out, and wishes he could have stayed lucid enough to feel Cas pump it into him…

Next time, he thinks.

They lie there together, Castiel’s head nuzzled under Dean’s chin; come drying between their stomachs and up to their chests as they synchronizing their breathing in a comfortable silence.

After a long while, Dean sighs and arches his head backward toward window, finally acknowledging the nothing but grey that lies outside. Tears well up in his eyes, and before he can stop it one manages to roll down his cheek, landing on the angel’s head before he can catch it. He huffs out half of a laugh and kisses that spot gently.

“I love you too” he whispers into his angel’s ear right before his vision whites out, and the head ache begins, and the vomit is back…

_____________________________________________________________________________

 

At first all Dean can see is glaring bright white light when he tries to open his eyes. He thinks he may have gone to heaven -like those feathery bastards promised him when he said yes…

______________________________________________________________________________

“Dean…Dean!” Castiel shouts frantically at Michael’s vessel…

Dean’s body.

He doesn’t think that Dean can hear him, that Dean is in there, but he can’t stop himself.

“Michael, what have you done!” he growls.

Michael just shakes his head and laughs in return. The sight looks sickening coming from Dean’s form.

“Dean is fine Castiel. His soul is stubborn, it is taking some time getting use to its new… surroundings. But he is fine, I assure you.”

“Let me see him.” Castiel demands.

He’s beginning to panic, he doesn’t believe in Michael’s promise… Dean never believed in the angels promise, how could he let his happen…

“Dean…” He croaks out

“…I need to see you.”

Michael shakes his head again, this time there is no laughter, just the air of pity and exhaustion aimed at his little brother.

“You know I can’t do that Castiel.” He whispers gently to the other angel.

And Castiel knows.

“He’s happy Castiel, Happier than you could ever make him. Don’t take that away from him.”

It’s said with no malice, and at those words Castiel’s grace feels as though it’s pooling down to the bottom of his stomach, whirling around and making him ill. He has never felt this type of pain before and he doesn’t know how to name it, but he suspects it means Michael is right.

His shoulders slump and he nods his head in defeat. Michael takes this as a sign that the conversation between his brother and him is over, and turns to take his leave.

Castiel watches motionless as the body of his charge turns away from him. He knows he’s lost his hunter, but he can’t help what slips out next.

“I love you, Dean.”

 

End. 


End file.
